App for a Puppeteer
Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa, Mind Control, Fiction, Slut Wife, MaleDom, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Big Breasts,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Older woman mind controlled against her will by a youth who has all the right controls to make the woman do as he wishes.

The previous day at work had been one that she would have just as soon as forgot. A day off, no longer was a true day off, because now she had some meetings she had to go to that were also part of her nursing career. It wasn't a mandatory thing, but it helped, especially since she was interested of late of getting more time off. Her husband was rarely home anymore, being a service representative, and on the road. She had a rather tight schedule to keep, one that she had made for herself. Karen, her friend, was supposed to be over shortly after she got home, so she barely had enough time to get home, get out of the car, strip, shower, shave, and apply her make up. In her efforts to hurry, she managed to destroy her last pair of panty hose. She didn't have enough time to go and get new, and not to wear any hose at all was a big no-no as far as the event was concerned. She thought about knee-highs briefly, then changed her mind in favor of the garter belt supported thigh high hose. She put on her high heels, as she remembered her blue dress was downstairs. Just as she was grabbing her robe, she heard the door bell ring.

It must be Karen, she thought, as she put on the robe, but left it open as she shouted,

"Come on in, Karen, the door is open!"

She rounded the corner, and came out into the front room to see Peter Wilkes standing in her front room!

"Shit!" she said, as she hurriedly closed her robe, and said,

"What are you doing here?"

She knew all too well who Wilkes was. He had recently been ejected from High School for assaulting a female teacher. She could believe that too, because she had nothing but problems with the young hoodlum since she had first known of him some eight years before when she and her husband had first moved into the neighborhood. The nineteen year old young man had been only eleven then, but he had a mouth on him that would have put some men who were in their forties to shame. He knew all of the foul cuss words, and knew how to use them. He did use those words too, rather frequently.

She knew from other "stories" in the neighborhood that Wilkes was probably an emotionally abused child. His step father, Frank Kline was a real slob. He was frequently drunk, and the police were always out and about the neighborhood because of his loud mouth, and his parties. In her mind this was still not a very good excuse to give the young man for the way he had treated her in the past few months. Even if she were to put it nicely, the teen had been insulting, and nasty. He had even went so far, in fact too far, just last week to call her a "fat assed bubble titted bitch".

It would have been easier to take too, had he been a good looking young man, but the fact of the matter was that he was downright ugly. He had a pock marked face, rounder than herself, and sloppy looking. He smoked cigarettes too, even at his young age, and his hair was always in a tangle. His eyes were beady looking, and a low forehead made him look stupid. That was one thing he wasn't. He was smart, calculating, and cunning, she knew.

"Aw Mrs. Bergman," he said, as he openly leered at her and the way she was dressed, "I jus' came in like you called."

"I said for 'Karen' to come in, your name isn't 'Karen' is it?"


"I didn't think so either, so please leave, right now!"

He said something.

She wasn't sure if it was foul, but she suspected that it was. Still the something he said haunted her, as she shook her head, trying to clear it. She said,

"Look, I'm running late, and I'd like you to go. Get out."

"I will ... in a while."

I'd like you to go now! she thought. The words formed in her mind, but her mouth refused to say them. Good grief what was going on!!

The telephone rang, and all that Wilkes said was,

"Take care of it."

She answered the telephone, highly, and acutely aware of the fact that she was dressed in a short terry clothed robe which was middle thigh length, high heels, hose, garter belt, bra, and panties (very sheer panties at that, she thought).

It was Karen telling her she couldn't make it. She thanked Karen and hung up the telephone. She looked at the clock on the wall and realized she would never make it to the meeting. Wilkes had come into the dining room and sat down in one of the chairs, closest to the kitchen, at the round table.

"Get me an ash tray, while you tell me what that telephone conversation was about."

She moved like a robot, as her mind screamed,

Oh god! What is happening to me, why why am I doing this?!

She got an old pot pie tin from the cupboard. She put down the pot pie tin, as she watched while Wilkes slowly and deliberately lit up a cigarette.

"I-I have a girl friend. She was coming over, but now she's not. I was going to go to a meeting, but ... I see-seem to have run out of time for the meeting." She hated stammering like a school girl but right now she was fearful of how her mind was working than she was of the hot eyed, ugly, youth sitting before her.

"Lock you hands behind your neck, Mrs. Bergman," he said looking up at her.

Sara shuddered in fear because her hands did exactly that!

She didn't want to, she wanted to tell him to go to hell. Instead, she did exactly as she was ordered to do! She felt the hem line of the robe move up slightly. That was something she didn't want to do! The robe's hem moved up over her knees, and then came to a stop as she positioned her arms with her elbows pointing outwards. She started to become afraid for her own welfare now. It was just starting to dawn on her that this punk had some kind of terrible influence, so kind of mental control over her that she had never in her adult life experienced before. From just the feeling of the robe she guessed that it was about three or four inches above her knees.

"You know power is a funny thing. Until you get it you don't even know what it's really like."

"Pete I-I don't understand what is happening here!", she exclaimed very aware of the fear in her voice.

"I know, and that's the beauty in this situation. You can drop your arms now, I found out what I wanted to know."

She had limited control of her arms. She dropped them, and reached out to slap him, and found her arms stopped.

"Last week," he said playing with the hem of her robe, "I think you referred to me as the 'little prick with the monster face' to one of your friends, didn't you?"

"How-how did you find out about that Pete?"

"Answer the question," he said not loud, but in a very commanding tone.

"Yes, I did," she found herself saying, and not knowing why she told him that she had said it. God his hand was close to her leg, why can't I tell him what should be said to him?!

His hand continued to play with the outer edge of the wrapped robe. She could feel the radiated heat of his body as the back of his hand rubbed the cooler surface of her middle thigh flesh. Sara sent her hand out to stop the little ass hole punk!

Nothing happened! Nothing! She half sobbed. He appeared to smirk as she choked back her emotions, realizing that this situation could easily go from very bad to worse.

Maybe if I change the subject, get his mind off of me, she thought almost desperately.

"Why-why are you here Pete?"

"To pay you a visit. You see I came across this information."

"What sor-sort of information, Pete?" she stammered nervously.

"The kind that give me the power, and gives you the ... headaches," he said as she felt the robe tug on the sash and it opened a little more exposing more of her thigh flesh to the strange young man.

She almost sighed as she saw his hand move away to his cigarette. He picked it up took a drag on it, and then put it back in the pie tin. Then his hand came out and stroked her outer left nylon covered calf, under her knee. About three inches of her lower thighs was exposed, and he was touching her on a part of her leg that was much lower than her knee. Still he was touching her and she wasn't doing anything about it.!

"You know Mrs. Bergman I never really cared for broads with big tits. You got nice legs though, just like Miss Shelly had."

So you think I have big breasts.

Your mouth is really bad you know that Pete?

Why can't I say these things?!

"The-the school teacher?"

"Yeah, her," he said, as she felt his hand move upwards, and under her robe!

"Not bad, not bad at all," he said as she watched, and then felt him use both of his hands on either side of her left leg, moving his hands quickly up under her robe! He continued to stroke her lower and middle thigh flesh, his fingers moving around her lower and middle thigh, and moving towards the more sensitive skin of her inner thighs but still on the hose and getting very close to her exposed skin; dangerously close.

Then, suddenly, she felt his hand as he crossed over onto her naked unclad skin! This meant his fingers were higher than what she had previously imagined.

She could feel his warm hands on her tight upper thighs approaching her crotch.

And I'm standing here like some kind of cheap tramp letting an accused rapist touch me close to my pussy!

"That meeting you were gonnah go to ... were you gonnah go dressed like this?"

"No, I was going to go in a blue dress I had."

"The one with the 'U' neck line?"

"Ye-yes, Pete."

How had he known of the blue dress with the "U' neck line? Yes, how could she have forgotten? She had gone to the school to help out about ten days ago and she had worn that dress with some high heels!

She remembered she had gotten a lot of comments, some of which were very negative as far as she was concerned from some hormone filled, foul mouthed hoodlum watching her go about her business.

He withdrew his hands for a second time and again reached for the cigarette, and said,

"Why don't you close those shades?"

"I-I don't know."

"Close the shades, Mrs. Bergman.," again he said it softly but in a commanding tone.

She could feel the power of the words.

She walked like a robot, turning slowly and went over to the window and closed the shades.

Am I going crazy? She thought.

Her back was to him as he said,

"Turn around and tell me how old you think I am Mrs. Bergman."

She turned and said,

"I-I think you-your seventeen."

"Almost, actually I'm sixteen yet. You know Mrs. Bergman," he said taking another drag on his cigarette, "some of my friends and I have talked about you for some time."

"Have-have you, Pete?", she didn't need to know what the conversation was about. She could guess all too well. She was sure it wasn't very nice.

"Yeah. I know you heard me call you a 'bubble tit small assed bitch', am I right?"

"Yes-yes, Pete, you are ri-right."

"My friends and I, we never thought of you as a whore. A slut maybe, but not a whore."

She blushed and remained quiet.

She wanted to say I'm not a slut.

How dare you even bring that to my attention you little ass hole!"

Instead she swallowed nervously and looked over at the seated teenager highly aware of how scantily dressed she was."

"Come back and stand over here Mrs. Bergman., I like feeling your leg up."

She came back to stand in front of where the young man was sitting, again like some kind of programmed robot.

"Pe-Pete ... why ... why am I doing this?"

Does he know why this is happening to me?

Could this all be some kind of sick dream?

"Doing what, Mrs. Bergman? I think you're being real nice to me, don't you?"

"Ye-yes. Much too nice, and that's what I don't understand!"

"Now Mrs. Bergman, I want you to tell me you are a married fucking slut."

I will not. I'm not a slut. I'm a married woman. I'm ... oh go_god no! No!

"I'm_I'm a ... married, fu_fucking slu_slut Pete."

What the hell was happening here?

"How'd you like to take off the robe for me Mrs. Bergman, for me?"

"I wouldn't like that at all Pete."

"Take off the robe anyway, Mrs. Bergman," and again it wasn't shouted, but said softly and again she felt the power in his voice.

"No I..." but her hands were moving as she pulled the sash free, and took off the robe in front of the sixteen year old. She almost casually shrugged it off her shoulders and lay it across a dining room chair back, as she looked down at the seated teen, who seemed to hold more cards than she thought were possible in a deck.

God, god, what is happening to me?, she thought.

She wished, strongly wished, now that she had not chosen to wear the lace bra. It hadn't given her much support. She remembered she had intended on changing it in the basement with her other clothing change, and the bra was a temporary thing. It really wasn't met for anything other than sleeping in. No support, and a lot of cleavage. She knew she had a lot of boob, and a lot of cleavage, in her mind, was not a good thing. She forced back a shiver as she saw his eyes sweep over her new exposure. His eyes were almost like hands as she could feel them moving across her more revealed body, from her exposed cleavage to the tightness of the underwear leg band on her panty underwear.

He crushed out his cigarette and said,

"Did you hear what happened with Miss Shelly, over at the school Mrs. Bergman?"


"What were you told?"

"I was told that you raped her."

"Actually I fucked her. She agreed to it too. The reason it was called rape was because the school principal was mad at me."

"Why was he mad at you, Pete?"

If I can keep him off the subject of me I might have a chance to figure out what's going on here!, she thought, then, good god I'm standing in front of a hormone driven teenager in nothing but my underwear trying to figure out what or why, but still standing in front of him very much exposed.

"Because he knew I fucked his wife. She's about your age, you know."

"Who is about my age?"

"Helen, the principals wife. She put on quite a show for me and my friends. Her tits are smaller than yours though."

Why is he so fascinated with my boobs? He fucked her with her permission! Yeah, if the husband ( the principal) found out, yeah he'd be upset big time! God, god he's got a hard on! If I'm not careful I could get fucked here myself...

Getting fucked suddenly made her feel a little wet, down below. She almost blushed as numerous thoughts crossed her mind.

Wilkes stood up and she found that she kept her eyes on his face even though she saw the bulge in his crotch as he said,

"She wore a thirty six 'C' cup bra. Nice firm titties. What is your bra size, Mrs. Bergman?"

"I we-wear a thirty eight triple 'D' bra, Pete."

Why did I tell him that?! It was a direct question. Is there a pattern here? Direct questions, and statements must be obeyed! Was that it?!

Wilkes leered at her, walked completely around her, and then walked back to the kitchen table and picked up his pack of cigarette, tapping out yet another cigarette, and putting the tip of the cigarette between his lips. He looked down at the lighter laying on the table, and then back at her. She shuddered. His look was half leer, half anger and very lewd. He acted so sure of himself. It made her shudder again, visibly.

"I need a light. Light my cigarette Mrs. Bergman."

She swallowed, and watched almost as if another person were reaching down and nervously flicking the lighter to flame, then very unsteadily holding the lighter up to his cigarette, as he inhaled, then exhaled in her face. She coughed, and still shaking from either fear or frustration she put the lighter back down on the table. She could feel his eyes looking down at her cleavage. She swallowed nervously, but felt like she was glued to the floor. She wanted to run, she wanted to cover her exposure, but all she did was stand there and let the young ruffian eye up her bra encased boobs.

She tensed feeling his finger trace a line along her left bra strap.

"You know my friends and I thought you had a big set of jugs, but thirty eight triple 'D'!

Shit, that is big!"

"Who..." she started as she felt his finger go under her bra strap, and hook it as he pulled it down over her shoulder. Her left breast drooped a little lower with the support gone.

"Yes, Mrs. Bergman, you were saying?"

"Who are your-your friends, Pete?"

"Tony, Gary, and Dave," he said now playing with the other bra strap.

She nodded, knowing who they were without their last names. The three most vicious young men she had ever met or knew of for that matter.

She jumped feeling his lips on her shoulder, the same shoulder her bra strap had been on.

"Pe-pete, stop this! I_I do-don't want y-you to go any further!"

Behind her she sensed him moving away then she felt her other bra strap slip over her other shoulder. The sheer weight of her breasts now pushed the bra down exposing her breasts nearly to the nipple. She wanted to cry but she couldn't as she heard him say,

"If you really mean that, then you could just walk away. But I'd rather you stay right where you're at, Mrs. Bergman."

She wanted to run, she wanted to put her bra straps back in place, she wanted to be less exposed! She didn't do a damn thing but stand there like some kind of zombie while the teen hoodlum felt her arms up, and then stepped around in front of her casually looking over her now highly exposed boobs, her cleavage emphasized because of the drooping bra. She felt her nipples harden.

She closed her eyes and shuddered as she saw then felt a right forefinger trace an outline over her exposed cleavage and hook itself on her bra which was still providing some cover to her breasts. She knew that wouldn't be long though.

"Open your eyes Mrs. Bergman. I dislike it so much when I feel up one of my sluts and they close their eyes on me."

Again it was the soft commanding voice that she had no control over. She opened her eyes, and felt a tear form in her right eye as he jerked on the bra and her breasts bounced free of the garment.

He called me one of his sluts! How many women has he exerted this kind of control over? I'm not his slut, but I sure act like one!! Oh my god, a teenage boy is about to have sex with me!!!

"Very nice set of jugs Mrs. Bergman," he said now fondling her exposed breasts and rubbing her nipple to a reactive erection, her nipples had only been hard before, now as he rubbed both nipples she felt them stiffen, become excited, get longer and fatter and hotter.

"Nice nipples too. Very nice. I like them nipples nice and long like that when they get excited. I'm going to enjoy playing with your tits. My friends will too."

He continued to roll her big boobs in his hand fondling them, and examining the twin orbs as if he were looking over meat in the market. God she felt cheap! The way he fondled her boobs made her feel even more aroused, even though she did not want to feel that way she had to admit she was becoming more and more turned on. His fingers were starting to frustrate her as she felt herself becoming very aroused, very ready for sex.

Just what the hell did he mean his friends would enjoy playing with her tits too?!

He continued to manipulate her nipples, her nipples swelling under his attention to long, fat, aroused tips that almost hurt her. Her breasts felt like they both were on fire and she realized horribly she was becoming aroused well past her ability to stop her own arousal simply by this abusive teenage punk and his brazen fondling of her exposed breasts. All she could do was stand there and take it like some kind of mindless bimbo, a slave to his desires.

Why is the thought of being a bimbo slave so arousing? It shouldn't be! I detest even the concept let alone the name or for that matter performing like one!!

"I don't think you need the bra any longer, take it off and put it on top of your robe."

He dropped his hand away and walked over to the davenport in the front room. She wanted to sob standing there topless, garter belt supported hose, high heels, and panties on. She turned like some kind of obedient little girl and watched as he walked over and sat down, then motioned with his hand and said,

"C'mon over here, and swing that tight little ass of yours when you walk, ok, Mrs. Bergman?"

"O-o.k.," she responded knowing it wasn't ok, and knowing now that the control he was exhibiting on her was total. She became afraid, thinking,

My god, if he can make me do this then he could make me do anything! Oh god ... I could end up having sex with this punk ass hole!

"Have you ever finger fucked yourself Mrs. Bergman?"

Her face went beet red, and she replied,

"Ye-yes I ... I-I ha-have Pete."

"I kind of thought so. Your just a prick teasing married slut aren't you Mrs. Bergman?"

She wanted to cry as her lips and then her mouth said,


"Come closer, and tell me that then."

Oh god he's going to make me say that!

I ... will ... not ... say ... that! I ... I ... will ... not...

"I-I'm a ... prick teasing married slut, Pete."

"It is interesting how things change, isn't it Mrs. Bergman?" he asked as he pushed aside the leg band to her panties first on one leg then the other. He looked at her exposed pussy lips, and said,


"Yes, yes it is ... interesting, Pete."

"Yes, and to show you how interesting it can get, I want you to remove your underwear, then go over to the far end of the couch, put one leg high on the back of the couch, and one leg on the floor, very good Mrs. Bergman. Very good, such a nice looking pussy. Big pussy lips too!

Now let's see we gottah put your hands to use. Yes, I have it, cup them jugs and push them together, good-good, now push up high so that they're almost touching your neck. Yeah like that, not bad. Nice pose, Mrs. Bergman!"

God she felt vulgar, and exposed! Her pussy was fully exposed to the bully now. Worse, holding her breasts, and exposing herself had for some reason turned her on slightly and she could feel herself getting a little wet.

The wretch stood up and removed his trousers, then his shorts. He had a sizeable erection! God he was man size all of eight inches long, and a pulse pounding three wide! A kid his age shouldn't have been given such a monster of an organ. God he was so ugly.

She watched him sit back down, leering at her exposure as he did so.

He moved forward towards where she was half laying half sitting, putting his right hand on her left knee, and his left hand on her right calf suspended up on the back rest of the couch. Sara tensed, wanting him to stop, but remaining silent as she watched and felt his hands run quickly up her exposed legs to her crotch. She swallowed as she felt his right hand cup her crotch, his fingers sliding underneath her to the bottom curves of her butt. His left hand rubbed her belly close to her crotch then moved down to her crotch as she closed her eyes feeling his fingers separate her pussy lips. As her pussy lips were spread wide he brought his other hand back up to slide it through the wet, moist channel of her outer genital area. She felt the gentle touch of his forefinger on her most sensitive organ her clitoris, as she moaned, feeling a sudden urge to rotate her fanny cheeks. She fought doing that, even when he inserted his forefinger inside her hot pussy. The punk rotated his finger inside, grinning from ear to ear, as she felt her natural juices begin to work overtime from the increased stimulation.

"Pretty wet in there, tight too. Later we'll see just how loose we can make that hole. I guess you kindah like that huh?" he asked as she licked dry lip stick covered lips feeling her groin begin to move on it's own.

It was her body, but sometimes like right now, it betrayed her own inner feelings more than she cared for. God, she was getting hotter and hotter by the second! The thought that someone might come in and find her holding her boobs up, with her legs spread and his fingers actively feeling up her genitals at first made her blush, and then made her get more turned on.

Sara wasn't sure why, she only knew she was getting hotter, and more lust filled with each passing minute. The ugly punk hoodlum with the thick ugly erection had only moved across her clitoris twice, but now he was giving her little member a real work over! The couch springs began to squeak in protest as her ass left the cushions then fell back and she was rotating around those awful fingers that the hoodlum was using on her so very effectively.

She desperately wanted to tell him to stop it, and at the same time wanted

to tell him to ram it inside her. She swallowed not saying a word, but moaning some more as he positioned his body between her legs and held his erection close to her pussy. She felt his cock head make contact with her genitals, and she jerked uncontrollably excited. Then he slid about half his length into her! God he was actually inside her pussy, and she wanted more!

She turned her head the first time he jabbed with his erection at her red lip stick covered lips. He leered down into her face as he told her to open her mouth like the good cock sucking slut she was. He watched her mouth open, as well as her eyes as he moved his hard on against the soft flesh of her cheek to rub all around her lips with the tip of his cock. He was dripping fluids already and leaving a trail of precum on her cheeks as he dragged his organ around and around never quite hitting the mark. Then when her eyes were full of fear, he let his organ lay against her open mouth and told her to lick it, not suck it, just lick it with her mouth open. The feelings that rushed through him were indescribable. It was both visually, and physically stimulating to see the slut that thought she was better than he was licking his prick knowing like he did that she would never had done this without the controls he had heard about. Then he stuck his erection in her mouth and told her to slowly close her jaw. As he felt the pressure build on his massive rod of hot flesh he felt her jaw close around his cock until he told her to stop.

Her lips now made a thin red 'O' around his massive length as she continued to look up into his face and suffer as she licked his length laying off to the right side of her mouth. He slowly pushed forward, as he watched the married bitch's eyes get larger, realizing possibly for the first time that he was going to deep throat her. He kept going, and saw the horror change to fear as she gagged. He kept going, curving down her tight throat, the choking sounds she was making increasingly in loudness and frequency. He stopped with about three quarters of his length buried deep in her mouth and part of the way down the older woman's throat. Then he told her to suck him. God, was that ever a turn on! She cried as she sucked, but she did suck, and suck pretty damn good for as old as she was. He had her hands leave the supporting action of holding those big jugs up for him and come up and cup his bag of cum filled balls while she worked his erection in her mouth. She began making moaning noises, as well as the slurping, gurgling noises made when a woman sucked cock.

Then he had her begin to move her body back and forth, keeping her head positioned where it was at. This effectively made her sucking mouth move over his length until he could contain himself no longer. He groaned, closed his eyes, and came! God, what a cum! He ejaculated five full loads of the cum into the woman's mouth, and it was oozing out of the sides of her lips, as well as being choked on and coming back up through her nose. He continued to unload until his was finished, and then he made her clean his cock with her lips and mouth, free of his recent climax. The rest of his cum went into her belly as she swallowed the stuff.

Then he had her suck him some more to get him hard so that he could fuck her.

Entering her pussy wasn't as much fun because there wasn't the high stimulation of suction. He'd had probably thirty women of various ages, and she was one of the tighter ones. She almost gratefully accepted his prick deep into her body, and she thrashed beneath him like some twenty five year old instead of the forty year old woman that she was. He couldn't stand the constant pressure of her groin pushing against his and rotating at the same time on the couch. He announced his climax, just as she moaned out her own, and he came a second time unloading three good eruptions of cum deep inside the older woman's pussy. He was pleased with himself, even more so after the fuck because he told her she was to masturbate twice a day but she was not to climax without his permission! Because he had done this with the 'key' and then informed her to forget that he had been the one to tell her but not to forget the command made his day even more enjoyable.

He chuckled to himself as he left her home. She had sobbed after the sex and run into the bathroom. Later, he knew, he'd have to train his new Puppet on how to act around him, but for now it was a pleasure knowing he had humiliated her. He had big plans for Mrs. Sara Bergman. The bitch, who was now his Puppet, was going to be trained up whether she wanted to be trained or not. The beauty in this situation, he reflected, as he drove home, was that she was totally under the command of the power key's which had been installed in her subconscious by the Master Keyman. He hoped that he had lived up to his Master's expectations. He would find out soon if the Keyman wanted him to add yet another bitch to his list of Puppets. It was good to be young and in control. He chucked again thinking of just how this proper mom was going to be changing in the future.

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